


Kings and Subjects

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-07 00:21:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11612040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: AU: Khal Drogo survives his wounds and is planning the invasion of Westeros with Daenerys Targaryen. No Melisandre and Selyse is dead.Stannis Baratheon realizes the hopelessness of his situation. Outnumbered, he bides his time as he realizes the true threat; a Dothraki army, bolstered by sellswords, exiles, and disloyal houses, lead by the Mother of Dragons and her savage husband. As the War of Four Kings rages, Aegon the Pretender will emerge from hiding and come to claim his father's throne.





	Kings and Subjects

Stannis Baratheon had learned long ago that kings do not have friends. Only subjects and enemies. Aerys Targaryen had no friends when he became king. Tywin Lannister became his right-hand man, his most trusted adviser, but in the end, he was nothing more than a subject before he became the downfall of the Targaryen dynasty. 

Robert had no friends either. Oh, he had sycophants who toasted his name, drank his wine, and sang his praises, but they weren’t friends. They could become enemies at the drop of a hat. Kings were made to rule, to listen to good council and to make the best decisions they could for the realm. Were they perfect? No. Even the best of kings made mistakes.

The Lord of Dragonstone looked at the Painted Table. Three hundred years ago Aegon the Conqueror had stood in this very same room, planning his invasion of Westeros. The beginnings of the greatest dynasty this side of the world had ever seen. Destroyed by a dreaming prince and a mad king, a mourning lord, and a vengeful betrothed.

_ So much for progress,  _ he thought bitterly. His brother had ruled for thirteen years, allowing waste and corruption to pile up in the capital city. Never listening to him, always to the  _ Spider  _ and that idiot Renly.

If it weren’t for the stalwart Jon Arryn,  _ no  _ ruling would have been done and the kingdoms would have devolved into anarchy and chaos. Like now. 

Now a bastard born of incest ruled on his  _ throne  _ but he couldn’t do anything about it. Soldiers and ships win wars, but he was sorely lacking in the former and the latter couldn’t march inland.

Not to mention the news that Ser Davos had presented to him not ten minutes ago. News that had made him angry, angrier than anything that happened before; Robert slighting him by giving Storm’s End to Renly and denying him his birthright or Cersei Lannister having children with the Kingslayer against every law of nature. Ned Stark losing his head. Tywin Lannister invading the Riverlands.

Not even as angry when Renly had declared himself king, marrying Margaery Tyrell in Highgarden despite him having the better claim. He clenched his fist, willing himself to remember his duty. His teeth grinded against each other, despite Maester Cressen telling him how bad it was for him long-term.

_ The Mother of Dragons they call her.  _ Daenerys Targaryen, the last remnant of a fallen enemy. Resurgent, come back to life through the ancient weapon of marriage. Her husband, this... _ Khal Drogo,  _ was the most powerful horse-lord in the East. Killing, raping, and enslaving tens of thousands of people.  _ This is the woman they want to rule the Seven Kingdoms? _

He was the rightful king of Westeros. Not Renly, not this Targaryen woman, not Robb Stark, not the bastard born of incest. But rights do not transition to reality, as many who have claimed the throne before had found. He gritted his teeth as he looked at the map.

Five thousand men. Narrow Sea infantrymen, a few hundred sellswords, and his own garrison at Dragonstone. Five thousand men to somehow take a nation.  _ Aegon invaded with five thousand men. He also had three dragons, a Valyrian sword, and every single kingdom was fighting each other.  _ He could see the parallels between their two situations. Dragonstone was the knife to the throat that was King’s Landing.  _ I am the dagger at their throats and yet I cannot slit it without slitting my own. _

He could take King’s Landing. He could land his army, slaughter the Lannisters and proclaim himself King, as it was within his rights. But his army would be broken, the Crownlands would laugh at him, and his lords would desert him. The Tyrells, the Lannisters, the Starks could march to King’s Landing and take the city from him as easily as Robert took away Storm’s End and gave it to Renly.  

“Father?”

He whipped his head around to see his daughter standing at the edge of the Painted Table, a ceramic cup in her hands, steam rising slowly from the heated drink and a book under her arm. She was dressed in a nightgown, colored with the yellow and black of their house, tinged with flames. Her greyscale wasn’t very visible in the flickering torchlight, reflecting off the dead flesh.

_ My daughter.  _ She was an ugly girl, even to his untrained eye. She had a jutting jaw, courtesy of him, along with the big Florent ears, and of course, the greyscale. The only thing one could call ‘beautiful’ about her were her eyes; glimmering sea blue eyes that shone in the darkness, pools of trust and confidence she herself didn’t know she had. Her black hair, dark as raven’s wings, was spilling over her shoulders.

“What is it Shireen?” he asked, stopping his thoughts for his daughter. He loved her, no matter what. She was a Baratheon, she was blood, she was his heir, but more importantly, she  _ was his daughter.  _ His father had loved him unconditionally, as much as he loved Robert and Renly. He regretted not spending enough time with her and ever since Selyse died...

“Can you help me with this book?” and he can see the book,  _ Dragonkin, Being a History of House Targaryen from Exile to Apotheosis, with a Consideration of the Life and Death of Dragons. _

He frowns, but at the same time, at least it’s not something idiotic like  _ The Conquest of Dorne  _ written by a vainglorious fifteen year old who would lose fifty thousand men trying to hold onto his conquests. _ “ _ Maester Cressen wants me to learn about the history of House Targaryen, considering that the dragons are back, but it’s so  _ boring.”  _

Stannis stifles a chuckle. His daughter is a bold girl and Davos had once christened her as unrelenting as he was. She had to be, in order to make it in this world. Even a highborn girl like her. But then he considered her words. Did she mean dragons as in the Targaryens? Or dragons, as in actual dragons?

“Where did you hear that dragons are back?” he says quietly and Shireen goes quiet as well, as if she was about to get into trouble.

“I…” she starts out hesitantly, biting her lower lip. She then sighs. “I was down at the docks with Devan when we overheard one of the sellsails say that three dragons were born to the Targaryen woman in Essos. A wild tale I say, but I told Maester Cressen and he shoved this book into my hands.”

He could see the drawing of Balerion the Black Dread, one of the largest (if not  _ the  _ largest) dragons to ever live, on the cover of it. He had been Aegon’s mount and with the sister queens dragons, they had killed over four thousand men at the Fields of Fire which snuffed out House Gardener forever.  _ And put the roses in Highgarden, a thorn forever in my side. _

“He did, did he?” he sniffled at the mention of Cressen. The old fool, but he loved him like he did his own father. “I’ll have a word about shoving things into little girl’s hands.”

Shireen giggled and he raised an eyebrow. She was getting  _ much  _ bolder in the past year. Selyse wasn’t the best of mothers and he wasn’t the tenth of the father he wished he was...but she was a good girl. Growing up to be a fine woman.  _ A fine ruler one day.  _ Maybe, just maybe, if the winds were fair and Fate smiled down at them, she would be ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, as was her right as his heir.

“It’s fine father, it’s a good book. Did you know that the Dornish took out Meraxes with a  _ scorpion?”  _ she whispers, as if she spoke any louder she might wake the gargoyle statues from their slumber. “An iron bolt right through the eye.”

_ Who was this girl and what did you do my daughter?  _ She was filled with life. Her days were no longer spent with his wife, but with Devan and the Seaworth boys, Maester Cressen,  Davos when he wasn’t sailing doing Stannis’s bidding, and even Stannis himself. When he had time and wasn’t going through reports and letters.

“A scorpion?” he repeated, more to himself than to his daughter. “Interesting.” He looked down at his daughter, her eyes shining with love and life. “Keep reading Shireen. It may come in handy someday.”

“You always say that father,” she snorted, almost laughing. A ghost of smile graced his lips.

“Am I wrong?”

“No.”

“Then keep reading,” he told her, looking back at the map. The Lannister fleets, which he outnumbered two to one, were in two different places. King’s Landing had the remnants of the royal fleet that hadn’t sailed to Dragonstone with him while Lannisport still had the few remaining ships of the Westerlands.  _ Tywin never bothered to rebuild his fleet ever since the Greyjoy rebellion. _

And then his mind flashed to the dragon queen. Reports from across the world, from merchants to sailors, had said that she was currently heading to Qarth to negotiate for a fleet with the Thirteen. Or at least, somewhere. He couldn’t trust anybody besides Davos and his own captains.

“What are you thinking about father?” Shireen interjected, sitting down on the map near Dorne, her feet firmly planted on Sunspear as she read by the torchlight, the pages rippling across the flames. “Maester Thomax wrote that Balerion the Black Dread was the largest of the dragons, even larger than Vhagar when she fell at the Battle of the Gods Eye.”

“Balerion...did you know that I once dreamed of dragons?” he said, looking at the image of the black dragon once more. “I dreamed of riding them into the Sunset Sea, with Renly and Robert. To escape Storm’s End, King’s Landing, wherever my father would send me once I was old enough to represent House Baratheon. Instead, when my father and mother died aboard the  _ Windproud,  _ I was made castellan of Storm’s End, running the day to day operations while my brother feasted and whored.”

Shireen was listening intently to his words, her eyes fixated on him. He had never told anybody of his dreams when he was a boy, when he still had hope that Proudwing would fly straighter than any hawk the Stormlands had ever seen.

“When Robert rebelled, that ended all dreams. I needed to focused on reality, to be focused on doing my duty to my elder brother and lord, something that your uncle forgot. Sometimes...sometimes I still dream of being a dragonrider. With a dragon that has scales of cream, teeth that are made up of shining black daggers. Two pools of molten gold eyes that stare back at you, with dragonfire as bright as the sun. But these dreams are not something to be acted upon. Fools love following foolish dreams and even the greatest of kings fall to these fantasies. Just ask King Aegon the Fifth.”

“The tragedy at Summerhall,” Shireen softly said.

“Yes, the tragedy at Summerhall that brought the Targaryen dynasty to their knees, because of Aegon’s obsession with dragons and wildfire. The first of many mistakes that would destroy the greatest house the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen,” Stannis eyed the fiery warmth of the torch’s fire.  _ Fools love a fool. “ _ This is why we don’t let our dreams rule our lives. Robert allowed the dream of Lyanna to rule his life, blinding him to the waste and corruption in the Small Council and the machinations of his unfaithful wife.  Not that Robert would know anything of faith, let alone fidelity. Renly is allowing the words of the flowers to poison his mind, to make him dream of him as king despite him not having any right to the throne.”

“I dream as well father. I dream of a face that isn’t marred by greyscale and that mother is alive again and there is no war. But dreams are foolish…”

“Dreams are foolish. But…” Stannis struggled to find the words.  _ Dreams are what we want to see in the world, but we cannot let them overtake us.  _ “Sometimes dreams allow us to see what the world should be like, instead of what is.”

They were silent afterwards. This was the most he had spoken to his daughter in her life. He never wanted to have such a hands-off relationship with her, but his first duty was to the realm. Yet somehow, his father had managed to balance his duty to the kingdom and his duty to his family without sacrificing either.  _ What would you have done in my shoes? _

His thoughts were interrupted as Maester Cressen, the old man, came hobbling through the door, carrying two letters in his hand. Following him was Maester Pylos, helping him along despite the clear determination in Cressen’s eyes to walk on his own.

“My lord, I have received two ravens,” the old man wheezed and Stannis felt a stab of pity for him. “One from King’s Landing and the other from...Riverrun I believe or somewhere in the Riverlands.”

The old man passed the letters, one that was sealed with the crowned stag of House Baratheon of King’s Landing, the other with the trout of House Tully.  _ What do they want?  _ Last he had heard, Ser Jaime the Kingslayer and Lord Tywin Lannister had launched an invasion of the Riverlands as vengeance for something the Lady Catelyn had done. No doubt Joffrey was summoning him to swear allegiance to him now that Robert was dead.

He broke the seal of the letter from King’s Landing.

_ Lord Stannis Baratheon of Dragonstone and Master of Ships, _

_ I am writing you today in order to summon you to King’s Landing to bend the knee to his grace, King Joffrey I of the House Baratheon, rightful lord of the Seven Kingdoms. If you do not answer these summons, you will be branded a traitor to the crown and your lands will be forfeit and given to a more loyal lord. You have one fortnight to sail to King’s Landing. _

_ Queen Cersei Baratheon, Regent of the Seven Kingdoms _

He threw the letter over his shoulder, the paper fluttering to a stop right above Duskendale. He cared little for the words of a woman who engaged in acts against the natural laws of man. One who broke the vow of marriage so easily as she did.  

He saw the seal of House Tully and sighed.  _ I wonder what they want. Troops? Ships? Proclaiming their independence from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms?  _ He broke it and saw that the letter was from Edmure Tully, the Lord of Riverrun.

_ Lord Stannis Baratheon, _

_ If you have not heard, Ser Jaime Lannister has been captured by House Stark at the Battle of the Whispering Woods and Riverrun is no longer under siege. _

_ The Riverlands and the North have declared their independence from the Seven Kingdoms. For too long, the abuses of the crown have subjected the Riverlands to constant warfare and raiding. No longer will we will tolerate this and have crowned Robb Stark, King of the North and Trident.  _ _ Our domain shall include all the Stark lands north of the Neck, and in addition the lands watered by the River Trident and its vassal streams, bounded by the Golden Tooth to the west and the Mountains of the Moon in the east. _

_ We ask that you do not demand we remain part of the Seven Kingdoms. I myself understand that you are the rightful king, as Joffrey is no king of ours and Renly is behind you in succession, but I do not want a war with you. Nor does Robb. We respect you for holding Storm’s End during Robert’s Rebellion, smashing the Greyjoys at the Battle of Fair Isle. We do not need a foe such as you. Last I heard, you have not crowned yourself king, but Renly has. _

_ I swear to you, we will not undertake hostile actions against you. But be warned, we will not bend the knee to you. _

_ Lord Edmure Tully of Riverrun and Lord Paramount of the Trident _

Stannis grinded his teeth.  _ This...fifteen year old boy crowns himself king after one victory. Means to steal half of my kingdom away from me.  _ And yet, he could do nothing. He was just a lord with a few rocks that swore fealty to him, barely five thousand men in his paltry army that didn’t make up a quarter of the men the Lannisters had, let alone the army Renly was mustering.

“I don’t have enough men to raid a pantry,” he muttered, throwing the letter on the ground in disgust. Pylos and Cressen looked at him, worry on their brows. Shireen was busy looking away from him. “Nor enough men to actually made a matter in this war.”

_ Duty. All my life, I have done my duty. And yet I cannot do my duty to the realm. To exercise my rights as king of the Seven Kingdoms. _

“Father...if I may...history is kind to the people who bid their time,” Shireen spoke up. He looked at her with eyes filled with fury. “Lord Kermit Tully and Lord Borros Baratheon didn’t do much of the fighting in the early offsets of the Dance of Dragons, and yet their battle was the most decisive, which brought down the greens.”

_ History.  _ Stannis had sworn to himself that he would not become a page in someone else’s history book. And he wouldn’t. And yet he saw the merit in his daughter’s words.  _ Cregan Stark, Kermit Tully, Borros Baratheon. They all preserved their strength and were the decisive matter in the Dance of Dragons. _

History was filled with examples of what to expect. It was why he had relentlessly scolded Robert for repeating the mistakes of so many people in the path.  _Am I wrong?_ he had often wondered to himself, especially in times such as these. History did not repeat itself, but it did rhyme, as one maester had written in a book whose title he had long since forgotten. But those who waited often won. And those who didn't often lost.  _The Young Dragon. Rhaegar Targaryen. Balon Greyjoy._ He would wait. 

That’s what he would do. He would bide his time and wait. For he would remember the true threat.  _ A dragon queen and her army of Dothraki horsemen. Khal Drogo and forty thousand screaming riders who would defeat any Westerosi army in open battle. Those who would seek to rape, pillage, and destroy the Seven Kingdoms.  _

“Maester Cressen, summon Ser Davos. I need him to do something.”

**Author's Note:**

> I welcome all criticisms with an open hand. With Season 7 underway, I need this to be an outlet.


End file.
